Uncle Tupelo
Still Feel Gone.

Uncle Tupelo
March 16Ė20, 1992

By the time Uncle Tupelo ó Jay Farrar, Mike Heidorn, and Jeff Tweedy ó became
well-known outside its southern Illinois base, the group had already disbanded.
Still, it left behind a legend that has grown considerably since its seven-year
existence, thanks in part to the fanzine No Depression, which chronicled
what has been dubbed the alternative country movement and took its name from the
bandís first album ó in actuality, it was the name of a Carter Family song that
appears on it. Of course, it also helped that two of Uncle Tupeloís founding
members (Farrar and Tweedy) climbed to even greater heights with their
subsequent projects and helped to push alt-country into the mainstream. But back
in 1987, the groupís members were simply combining their influences, which
included everyone from The Byrds and the Rolling Stones to The Clash and Neil
Young, and applying them to a simple set of original songs about life in an
impoverished, small factory town.

That same year, Nirvana was founded in Seattle, and a similar feeling of
angst filled the music of both bands. Nirvana, of course, broke through in a big
way with 1991ís Smells Like Teen Spirit, but the forceful chords that
drove Kurt Cobainís songs also found their way into tunes like Graveyard
Shift and That Year from 1990ís No Depression ó so much so
that in the hands of Uncle Tupelo, alt-country sounded like the grunge sceneís
hillbilly cousin. Thereís no question that throughout the album, Farrar, Tweedy,
and drummer Mike Heidorn were still ironing out the kinks in their collective
approach to songwriting, and although many of the tracks turned out to be
ineffectually similar, thatís not to say there werenít plenty of gems to be
found. Most notable were the mournful social commentaries Whiskey Bottle
and Life Worth Liviní on which the band clung to a last glimmer of hope,
while simultaneously drowning its sorrows and searching for salvation at the
bottom of a bottle of alcohol. Yet, there was a restless edginess that pervaded
much of No Depression, too, and though the group frequently sounded like
a bar band, its debut recording hinted at the greatness it had yet to achieve.

In 1991, Uncle Tupelo released Still Feel Gone., and the album largely
found the trio continuing to fuse punk rock and country with mixed results. From
a songwriting perspective, it was a more mature effort, but musically the styles
continued to thrash against one another, at times, rather uncomfortably. Its
lyrics dealt with the band membersí collective struggle to get out of their
hometown and make something of themselves, and itís full of the usual road-weary
sagas that young groups tend to face along the way. There were moments when
things fully came together for Uncle Tupelo, such as the bouncy country romp
True to Life; the reflective If Thatís Alright, which hints at
directions that Tweedy would take with Wilco; and the jangly pop-folk of
Still Be Around that undoubtedly attracted Peter Buck to produce the bandís
next project.

That, of course, was March 16Ė20, 1992, which was named after the
dates of the recording sessions held in Athens, Georgia. Fortunately, there was
much more originality in the albumís music than there was in its title. Thereís
no question that Uncle Tupelo was coming apart at the seams, and its subsequent
and final outing Anodyne was akin to The BeatlesíWhite Album ó a
series of solo sessions pieced together under the guise of being a band.
Somehow, Buck managed to keep the group together long enough, however, to polish
off the material that became March 16-20, 1992, making what is arguably
Uncle Tupeloís finest (and most cohesive) release. Itís an unplugged and
intimate affair, full of the haunted echoes from a distant past, brought back to
life through the aching vocals, gentle percussion, and soft guitar strums of
Farrar, Heidorn, and Tweedy. Comprised of six traditional songs, nine original
compositions, and a cover of the Louvin BrothersíAtomic Power, the
collection wove together protest songs, murder ballads, working-class laments,
and gospel numbers into a stirring singular vision of American life. Amazingly,
the tracks written by Tweedy and Farrar sounded right at home next to the other
selections ó a testament to how far each had come in a very short period of time
ó and though the trio still utilized odd tempo changes, on songs like Grindstone and Wait Up, they now seemed much more comfortable in
doing it. Thereís no question that Anodyne was a masterpiece in its own
right, but in hindsight, itís been a bit overrated in comparison to March
16Ė20, 1992. Alt-country never sounded better than this.

All three of these albums were recently remastered and reissued, each with
its own set of bonus material as well as detailed liner notes. No Depression
features a lengthy biography of the band by Heidorn that fondly recalls Uncle
Tupeloís early days from its formation up to the time of the albumís release.
The six bonus tracks are all terrific and include an immaculate cover of Gram
ParsonísSin City as well as a live rendition of Whiskey Bottle
thatís even more poignant than its studio counterpart. The updated version of
Still Feel Gone. includes a glowing, but non-essential, remembrance of the
album by pop music writer Holly George-Warren, three interesting demos that were
later perfected, and two outstanding cuts: a raucous run through the Soft Boysí
I Wanna Destroy You and the claustrophobically world-weary Sauget Wind.
As for March 16Ė20, 1992, it features an insightful article written by
Rolling Stoneís David Fricke, based on interviews with the band. Its bonus
tracks include the Neil Young-ish B-side Take My Word, a live rendition
of Moonshiner, and four demos ó including a bucolic cover of The StoogesíI Wanna Be Your Dog.